Intricacies
by ejunkie
Summary: Irrespective of each other they thrive. Thrice: unlikely inebriation and expected sobriety. Twice: adolescence to the complications of modern relationships and pregnancy. Once: Prussian intoxication and denial. Zero: ramifications of war. PruHungGermany.
1. AusHunPruHun: Realities

**CHAPTER THREE - AUSTRIA/HUNGARY/PRUSSIA/HUNGARY**

_Concerning divorcees, and alcohol with a touch of shortlived denial._

Summary/ The other ties that can be broken.

Authors note:/ This is a short drabble series, consisting of the small things I have written over the past year, grouped into comfortable, linked chunks. There will be three chapters minimum, in various stages of progress; however, these have been edited to stand alone. They have quite some time between them, and only a few of them have been edited again, so the styles may vary, and they may be in different periods of completeness, so please pardon me. These have been stress relieving, more often then not, and seemed appropriate at the time. xD

* * *

**am i making all the right moves?**

"Roderich... I love you."

The slurred syllables that woke him, stumbling drunk, from sleep had come out in a broken whisper, the syllables muffled by the edges of sleep and his pillow. He looked down at her tightly curled form beside him, her smooth skin as her legs tangled around his, her curves, faintly visible through his shirt, that she had worn since she had stumbled, painfully, shaking onto the threshold of the cold apartment building. Her frame was crouched, slightly, the light material of her shirt clinging to her to remove any possible protection; and she was, impossibly, weak.

His fingers were also tangled in her hair, the tight strands clinging to his fingers. Halfheartedly, he tried flexing them, fingers constricting, _clingingly_ after just an inch, before he rested his hand back down, resuming his prior position, half curled around her, or against her, arms covering, as if trying to shield her, against the outside. The world. Gilberts eyes closed, deliberately, blocking out the growing orange glow on the horizon, that highlighted the room- and, he had to admit, it was funny what changed over five years. Just five years ago, he would not have let her in, and she would not have asked.

Yet, and he stuck on that thought, leg moving from beneath the blanket to stretch, briefly, in the colder air of morning, the comforting strain of his muscles sending a pleasant shiver down his spine into her hair on the pillow; when he had the chance to re-examine the last sequence of events, he had to condemn himself to the conclusion that, in actuality, she hadn't asked then either. The reddened eyes flashed open once more, dried, crispy, wavering slowly in a yellowed haze around the room before settling on what he could identify as the wet stained remnants of her sodden entry – but she had to come to him in that state, at that time- the luquor cabinet opened and half drained, his defences god damn _down_- and then _need_ him.

Damn it. She hadn't _needed_ to, had she? Pained, saying nothing in her pride, yet the raw emotion in her eyes, the untempered hurt and damage striking out as loud as if she screamed, flecking his now humble front door, and cheap wooden grain so hard it could make it flake into splinters, and he had had no choice in the matter.

"_Roderich…!_" His fingers tightened briefly, his knuckles turning white around the strands.

But then again, he was the unchanging factor, impacting nothing- her decisions, his own path, her affairs, politically and the more 'interestingly inclined routes. He didn't impact anything to the extent to change her decision on her marriage- or to his acceptance of the proposal without a second thought. That was why he was the one she'd stumble back to, for the first time in nearly a century of waiting, to catch her as she fell right into his bed; to follow suit, without the care and plan that _he_ had liked to show her, and tend to her, as she expected of him.

The little 'Gilbert'; the little beast, _trained_ and obedient, yet _dangerous_ enough, for her.

He frowned into the darkness, the remains of the Cordeau haze blinked away. She had entered the house quietly, memory mapping out the route up the stairs, through the cramped, shared corridor to his apartment flat. She had not forgotten how, with that soft glow in her eyes, a sliver of a lighter green shade of need, as she physically moved herself back into his life.

How the hell had he managed to stay here this long?

Getting up quietly, he slipped out of the bed silently and onto the drying puddles she had left behind her in her wet entrance, toes sinking into the half-damp carpet, eyes adjusting to the breaking morning light. The wet shambles of his apartment was clearer to him, and pausing briefly by the door to brush his fingers across the wet cloth at the back of her jacket, he snorted, reaching for the rusty lock to his apartment, twisting the keys with a rusty creak. There was a small sound behind him, but his swinging arm didn't stop, slamming the door forcefully, enjoying the loud splintering crack it made against the wood, probably waking up the whole building.

Keys pushed through the letterbox, his glinting grin flicked wider, his hands shoved deeper into the deeper fabric of his coat.

He was never one to stick around with the dead, and if anything that was what she was now, what she had done to herself. He wasn't god damn Roderich.


	2. TurkeyHungary: Substantial Developments

**DRABBLE SET TWO: Turkey/Hungary**

**_nineteentwenty and Belligerence._  
**

_Set in two different periods, from adolescence to the complications of modern day relations. Featuring Hijab and pregnancy._

AN/ These are in varying stages of being completed. Namely the first one, as it is the start of something new altogether. Don't those make the perfect drabbles?

-and thank you for the grammar corrections, I hope I found the right corrections. o_o

* * *

**nineteentwenty - Turkey/Hungary**

"Sadiq, ghazi." The voice rang out clear, the slight lilt of the accent vaguely reminiscent of the '_new world_'. The heavier tilt to it, however was Hungarian. The woman in front of him eyes were glowing, glittering hard under the starlight, as the woman came into view of the open door. She was still beautiful, of course. She'd always be beautiful to him, even when she was angry, form stout and concentrated in front of him, as if she was making herself physically into what mentally she hoped she could be, steadfast and unmoving.

He took another slow long inhale of the smoke, keen on the ways her eyes watched. Ignore the green, the thread of poison- his eyes narrowed, focus on the hazel ring that surrounded the iris. The bite of ice in his chest slowly dissipated into the drugged smoke, and he exhaled slowly, letting the smoke curl around his face and into his eyes, burning his vision until his vision faded into peaceful grey.

The tremor of tension through her body as the clear eyes narrowed, fighting to find his through the smoke, as she finally realized the situation.

She couldn't have truly believed he wouldn't find out.

The smoke blanked the pull of his emotions, until his head emptied of thought and feeling. They had had their history, before _that man_ had come into the scene. The pain stung in his chest, through the dull bliss of the haka smoke, again, uncontrolled, which was not fair. She was meant to love _him_. He had been kind to her and her people, hadn't he? They had kept their religions. There was just the matter of the price.

Dark eyes, a hint of green barely visible from beneath a clay shroud watched her every movement, taking such detail in as the sway of a single hair across her face as she turned to pace, and her feet tapped lightly against the marble floors, as it twirled in a mad dance with the wind, aiming towards her eyes. His breath was bated, waiting, even, uncaring of her mad dance as she moved closer, until she brushed the strand away and he took his cue. Standing abruptly, interested in the way she froze as she noticed the movement, body turning half towards her, he waited until she met his eyes.

"You're pregnant."

Her skin was flushed, the green viridian flashing again as if emerald coils burned beneath the surface, and her hands flew to her stomach instinctively even as she forced herself to meet his eyes, masking her fear.

"It's not what you think."

"Is it my fault you slept with that failure? HA, I don't think so. "

She reached forward in an abrupt movement, and Sadiq was startled into stumbling back a step, the black blinking rapidly before he reached up, grabbing her winging palm inches before it reached his cheek. Her palm was wet, sweating lightly, and she wobbled slightly as he watched, clearly exhausted by this point. Her hand settled against her stomach, heaving beneath the thin cloth of the western dress. His tightening grip slackened, releasing her hand, and he took another step back, his lips twisting back to release another explosion of smoke as he replaced the thin tube, allowing him to hide as the bright robe curled around him once more, thankfully hiding her from view.

"But he's yours."

* * *

**belligerence - Turkey, Hungary**

"Magyar... Hord észt." The foreign words were shaped unusually by his lips, the deep growl that had been building in his throat crackling against his teeth as deep chestnut focused hard on her, hard edges glinting in a shard of the reflected light off of the porcelain mask containing half his face. Beneath him was the slight, fragile, yet so belligerent figure of the girl, as she stood calmly in front of him, despite the fact she dared to wear her bare face, violating his teachings, dared show her nakedness outside of his presence, even after she after she had been educated. A fine tremble ran through him, settling to curl in his hands. He had treated her with respect for her former position, but maybe he had been to soft. He took a breath just then, closing his eyes to dampen the glowing coals of emotion coiling in his stomach; this woman did not know her limits.

There was a flicker of light, and he opened his eyes to focus on her as with a small twist of her head, she caught his eye with a dazzle of her foreign colour, and he watched as with a small 'pift', she spat on the floor.

His eyes flashed red hot behind his lids again as the hot flash of anger lashed out of the pooling heat in his stomach, holy fire scoured him again, and he almost struck the girl, hand raising in a flash of dazzling colour as the sleeve of his robe caught the setting sun that flared through the surrounding windows.

His hand wavered mid-air, his gaze trembling slightly with the shakes of his body in his effort to restrain the longing action, to just strike the charge, beat her to her necessary submission, her discipline. Eying her, his resolve almost broke; it'd be so easy... but for the fact that she was- not his.

His hand lowered, and with another breath, he straightened, restraining his anger back up. As... she was not his to break. He would have to deal with her, for now.

"Nem."

Too feminine for the _Janissaries of the Kapıkulu_, yet too masculine to be placed with the hasekis. A eunuchs, or something in between, he had first thought. Looking at her now with her gleam of pride in her negligence, his lip curled with his hand as he closed tight fingers into a fist, and that would have been easier. But bok no, with her first blood, she was clearly just a woman. Just a disobedient woman.

Hand dropping, letting the cool, well-made cloth of the brightly coloured hijab slip to the floor, he turned towards the sun, watching his desert as the anger simmered to a low murmur in his ears, his vision and mind clearing again. There was a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision, but Sadiq focused his eyes on else more important things, such as the flashes of green and purple which would be the fragrant garden outside, the lavender at his temple, the rising buds of the lily-white tulips. The white tips poked out amongst the green spread, and they would bloom soon. He exhaled. But not soon enough.

"Lesz hord észt , lány." He turned from the window, eyes hard as they focused back on the spot where the girl had been standing - to find it empty. The time for games was over. Annoyance biting at his composure once more like a mosquito from the East, he waved his hand to his servants as his eyes scanned the room, until they caught sight of her by the far wall, hovering behind a gleaming statue, and with a flick of his wrist his property moved towards her. Smoothly transitioning through languages, he was pleased to be forming words of his own again as he summoned her to him with a 'Buradu', hand settling to grip her struggling arm firmly as his outstretched arm received the hijab once more.

No matter just whose she was, with him, she would follow his rules.

* * *

translations-

hungarian

'magyar' - hungarian, but most likely used incorrectly in this time period. :'D  
'hord észt' - wear it.  
'nem' - no  
'lesz hord észt , lány' - you will wear it, girl

**turkish**

'_Janissaries of the Kapıkulu'_- (forced) slave division of the Ottoman Army that helped them take Europe, Christian sons taken from captured families, converted to Islam and enlisted.  
'bok' - shiet  
hasekis - 'favorites' of the Sultans harem.  
'burada' - here.


	3. Le Baiser Et Le Couer

**DRABBLE SELECTION PART ONE: **

_**Le Baiser et le Coeur.**_

_Including not so innocent drunken mishaps from an unlikely source, and entirely expected antics from the other. Two times round. Ludwig, Gilbert, Matthew and Francis._

* * *

**the bittersweet aftermath – Ludwig, Gilbert.**

The room was a pulsing mass around him, neon dyed, stained in color; and reverberating with the inescapably beat of _music_.

And it could not have been the tenth beer, the heavily generous helping of liqueur gelato that made Ludwig's head spin like _this_ right now, lost in the glitter of silver chains and raw metal chain links, chained even to the people that danced madly, as if entranced, before him.

If it was anything, other then pure, coincidental _fluke_, as the cold touch of his brothers hand left his shoulder, the faint glimmer of a grin flashing before he disappeared into the crowd; then it was the music.

It was intoxicating.

His heart was beating heavily, irregularly in his chest, like some foreign object. It was like... a drug.A drug, taken by his troops of the second world war, taken by him when necessity required it, and then Ludwig was doubling over, gasping, at the burning pulses of energy racing through his veins, eyes tightening, as he realised the implications- A flash of a steady pattern in the crowd, the regular figure, moving towards him, returning, before the light hand was on his shoulder, twisting lightly with his brothers grin. "Heyyy, brother! You like my little present? It should lighten you up nice an-"

Hands tightening, Ludwig's fingers gripped the thinner mans throat, the words ended in a rush of air, before he was hit by a wave of dizziness, the Prussian breaking the grip easily before gripping his shoulder, the laughter wheezing in his ear in short, irritating as Gilbert took his weight with an 'ah-haa, eaaasy west!' The air glowed around Ludwig, seeming to reverberate with the bass into little multi-colored stars, and the heat reached the pit of his stomach.

His skin was on fire. Swaying, he tried to regain his balance, his feet, but the ground was slippery under him like the lights themselves were made of oil. There was a movement under his fingers, his brother readjusted himself, practical, in preparation for the weight; and Ludwig toppled over him, collapsing to the floor.

Panting, with the hiss of air beneath him, catching his cheek, searing off of his ear in burning streaks, his brother was beneath him; and Ludwig turned his face towards him.

The slightly pained, but still chuckling grin gleamed in a flash of violent red from a passing strobe, the music surrounding them in a scream of emancipated emotion.

Something broke, it must have; as suddenly Ludwig could not longer think, no longer rationalise, the metallic clangs of the chains, and laughter clashed against each other in his ears, the bloody gleams tainting his vision red.

And then the blond German's head was tilting down, his lips slanting down in a dogged movement, and the older man was gripped roughly by the neck as dry, chapped lips made an awkward pass at his mouth. Barely recognizing he failed the first attempt, Ludwig closed on him more firmly, grip moving down to press down on the mounting, yet delayed resistance, as red narrowed and flashed awkwardly, frantically, in an increasingly hyperventilated manner; before with a hard shove backwards to establish a better position, he connected, warm lips surprisingly gentle, calmer.

His body fell back awkwardly, unhindered, the frantic beating of his heart reverberating the room with every beat, focusing blandly on the ringing clang of glittering metal and black, devilishly _seductive_ chaos around him, and he recognized the reflection of himself in that dark room.

The world had more complexity, than he could ever plan for. As his bruder knew, of course.

* * *

**discoveries de le baiser français – Francis, Matthew**

This was too close. This was just... After a moment, in that warm bubble of air, Matthew found the will- no, _the strength_ to open his eyes against his brother, his hand raised to push the other man away. That was _enough_, and he'd prove that, too. His eyebrows came down, a ferocity overcoming his expression... that only served to please Francis, it seemed, as the other man took his arm, pressing him towards him once more with a quiet 'shusshh'.

"...no, Francis!" Matthew shut his eyes again, mouth moving to grim determination as he pushed harder against his mentor, twisting his head away. Francis's response was immdiate; his hand flashed forward, knocking matthews hand back from where they gripped the light fabric, his chest crushing forward against the french man as his eyes widened he blue wide, confused, staring into his 'brother's similar, yet never quite the same gaze, that seemed to be darkened with some intensity. "I said I wanted to show you something, _cheri_. You have been with that_ stupide Arthur_ too much, non? No patience..."

Matthews heart rebounded in his chest, sending the blood roaring into his ears, as the french mans hand trailed languidly down his back, struggles increasing once more as he shoved against his brother, blonde strands flicking as she shook his head uselessly, hands useless against the others shoulders. When Francis had called him _here, 'la Paris'_, he had been excited, stupidly, but he had _known _to be cautious, from experience itself. The hand slowed, carving little circles into the small of his back, and Matt shuddered lightly as the warm breath brushed his lips again, before his eyes closed as soft skin met his lips.

There was a flash of heat in front of his eyes, and the cool sensation... Matthews eyes shot open, shocked, narrowed as they flitted down to the others lips, twisted in a slanted grin, the startled, confused blue stare oblivious to the touch of Francis hand on his face as the man stroked down his wards cheek gently.

"Aaah, ssssh, mon cheri. C'est comment le baiser français, non?"


	4. LudHungPru: Tyger, Burn and War Games

**(ludwig/hungary/prussia) tyger and burn and war games.**

**Disclaimer: these characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya~ subversions are the product of my own skewed brain. u**

**AN/: **The question remains as thus: why, during those nine hours, were my thoughts centered on these three. _ The first started it all. e

* * *

**Tyger**

**_Notes-_**_ but first, you can't help but succumb to it._

There were murmured voices in the background behind her, dropped and low, almost like a quiet, soft purr, growled like one of the cats, and Eliza's first thought was of vibrant orange stripes, luminous, prowling through the darkness; unstoppable, beautiful, and utterly magnificent, as it was when, years ago, she had first set wondering, stunned eyes upon them.

_A Tiger. And her heart beat even now in it's thrall, Roderich's grip light on her shoulder as the gleam of a green clothed man, extravagantly bowing in front of the pride of his exhibit, the golden brocade announcing 'THE WONDERS OF EAST' as with the sparkle in his eye, he drew back the curtain._

The claws clicked lightly as they came closer, and light points pressed to her upper thigh, the ten claws tips dull as they pressing almost painfully as they trailed lightly up her skin. The low, growling purr, rumbled through the air, closer this time, following the lines of light pain, and the heat of panting breath, that she was almost able to feel against her skin.

_The burning forests, the tropical heat under that extravagant sun... the exotic, zealous, power of that place, which she had yet been able to experience and enjoy, and Eliza was lost in the memory, as, she could not remember a time when she was as happy, as free._

There was a hiss- almost forming the words: "you're definitely a cute little Magyar, aren't you?"

Another set of paws, softer, sheathed, brushed across her lips, pressing against them firmly, before a rough growl was at her ear, and she almost quivered at the proximity of the gruff, yet surprisingly recognizable as human words. "Eliza... Eliza. Don't make a move. You are incapacitated."

...What?

Dimmed hazel opened briefly, squinting in the half light, focusing on a smudge of a mouth, and blue, surprisingly wearied eyes, before the hands clasped tighter around her mouth to smother her scream, and the second set of hands gripped her firmly around her knees, keeping her straight as Ludwig's hands pulled her straining head back with a shove.

"Eliza! Roderich has Anschluss! Do not resist!"

The words were slanted, poor Hungarian, and the subject of Anschluss was so ridiculous; she pushed up against their hands again, and the grip travelled farther up her thighs again, before heart beating, startled, confused hazel shot down, meeting gleaming red, and it took her a minute to recognize the gleaming grin, Gilberts hand stopping inches from the hem of the night shirt she had worn to bed.

She stared at him, movements paused for the moment, anger boiling up in her at the injustice- before the odd, gentle glow to the slant of his hair, a gentle gold, turning the strands ruddy, caught her attention, and... she wasn't in her room.

Heart beat increasing, she took in the room that was not the one she had gone to sleep in; the heavy gold paint, laced with a red almost like blood in a gaudy, disgusting display of power. The pained wood was carved, curving around ripples of fur and claws, forming a flurry of beasts, tigers, wolves, eagles.

The hands on her face moved, reminding her painfully of their presence and, panicking, disoriented hazel stared upwards, tracing out the lines of the face sliding –with it's sharp angles and strong bones- into stark reality above her. A blank gaze stared back, before leaning forward sharply, his position shifting until he had taken up her entire vision.

"…etha. _Elizavetha._ Do you comprehend? Roderich has Anschluss."

Quietly, the blue searched her eyes, seeming pleased with whatever confirmation they found there, before the hands were smoothing down to Elizas arms, and she was lifted forcefully from the carved table, Gilberts grip lifting to take her other arm. She coughed, pushing backwards, eyes widening as she was physically lifted, Ludwigs arms tight around her limbs, and the knowledge finally registering- what was happening, as she was taken, and Roderich-

The smooth purr was back in her ear again, lifting lightly at end, as if thin, sarcastic lips had tweaked into a grin. "Welcome to the Reich."

* * *

**burn.**

**_Notes_**- _'Even if you go down a different path, your destination will be the same. I'll meet you there.'_

He came again to her, later. He'd try to mask his presence, walking softly, the hard military issue leather squeak from his audacious boots left in favour of soft soled shoes or something, although she could tell he was there.

Eliza raised her head from her knees as the tall, faint figure rounded the corner, the messy silver of the strands of hair setting him ablaze in the dark. She met the faintly inquisitive red gleam briefly, before shifting to the left, hand reaching out to grip the bars for balance.

Correct.

There was a faint sigh behind her. Eliza kept her gaze turned away, as the hazel glittered slightly, before something wet hit her knee and she cursed, holding her breath in an attempt to calm her breaths. She had to stop being able to mark his presence. It was a ridiculous skill to begin with, let alone here…

More wet things trickled down her chin, and she bit her cheek, small 'sczar' breaking the silence, and she turned her head as far as she could so she couldn't see him.

After a minute, hazel widened as she realized she had focused on the mirror, that the pale, thin faced figure that faced her was actually her- and the piercing red gleamed as Gilbert stared back.

* * *

_**Notes**- 'You never really think about the implications of war, do you?'_

**War Games**

She quivered on the cool slab of the table, knuckles white under the straps bound tightly to her legs and arms, and Gilbert wanted to reach out, and grab her shoulders, shake her, hug her, kiss her, whatever- feel her, love her, more then ever.

But it was too late, wasn't it?

There was a grip around his heart, tightening; but it couldn't be guilt, wouldn't be, as there was nothing wrong going on here. The drugs were, they were necessary. The 'treatment'; that was necessary too. Even the _saw_-

The black glove in front of him withdrew, clenching quietly into a tight fist, before returning to the sleek black leather pocket, the cool metal of the grip of his gun freezing against his fingers. The white lab coats glided like ghosts in front of him, impartial as they examined ever inch of her body, the impure blood, quietly dissecting into pieces the heart of the disease of the _volk_.

This was a war, a war, in the least, and thus this was god damn well to be expected. She knew that, she had to know that; after all the battles for spoils, clashes if armor, those years.

Yet, as the light buzz of the circular saw drowned out her rough-cloth smothered screams, and he stood like some black shadow in the corner, back turned, eyes trained firmly away as determination set his teeth; he still had to tell himself that, didn't he?

* * *

**_fin. ende. vég. son._**

**_good night._**


End file.
